


The Ghost of Grinch-mas Present

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Platonic [9]
Category: Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Dirty Dancing, M/M, Surprise Buttsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are cranky, no matter the season.<br/>Only someone invulnerable should risk cheering these people up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Grinch-mas Present

Batman was cranky. Admittedly, it was hard to tell unless you knew him really well, but he was. Flash had taken to vacating the Watchtower anytime Batman was around in the last week, asking if Batman was there before showing up. Plastic man had gone into hiding, and Hawkgirl was armed at all times. Superman was laying low, trying to avoid the glare of doom, until he turned a corner and prevented an apocalypse.

Wonder Woman was stroking her golden lasso with one hand, the other was balled into a fist. She was ready to attack and staring down Batman as she spoke. “Man’s world is right about one thing, you need a good lay.” 

“Batman!” Superman interrupted, getting the icy blue glare of doom and death, and Wonder Woman looked at him too. “Trouble in Gotham.” As Batman stalked toward Superman, Superman dropped his hearing toward Gotham. There was always trouble there, please let there be trouble there. “Bank robbery, similar m.o. as yesterday’s.” 

Superman didn’t know what that m.o. mentioned over the police band was, but Batman was moving toward the teleporter, his attention on his city. The entire Justice League sighed with relief, but Wonder Woman had a few choice words for Superman. 

“Nice save, but if he says one more word about the impracticality of my outfit I will show him how to hurt people with high heels.” The heels in question clicked as she walked away, but Superman was busy trying to figure out how to cheer up Batman. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

The plan required split second timing and the ability to x-ray Wayne Manor from space. Clark had that covered, that was easy. Finding the courage to try and make a Grinch level bat-attitude go away was a bit harder. Clark thought about the Boom-tubes on the Watchtower, wondering if a Christmas attack by Darkseid would cheer Bruce up. It wasn’t worth the property damage to test that theory, so Clark watched Bruce make his way to the master bedroom of Wayne Manor. 

An earlier phone call had set things up. Clark wasn’t sure what Alfred thought he was planning, but he’d agreed to take the night off with only a slight throat clearing. It was nice to know that Clark had Alfred’s blessing, but that didn’t make this any less weird. There were some people you just didn’t try to cheer up, unless you were invulnerable. 

Zipping in the balcony door that Alfred had left open, Clark landed. Bruce was in bed, but awake enough to glare at Superman closing the balcony doors. Forcing a calmness he didn’t feel, Clark stayed silent and walked over to the radio. A few buttons, and Clark’s requested music began to play. Clark did not want to picture Alfred buying _Take It Off_ by Kiss. Keeping his face as serious as possible, Clark started dancing. 

Nightclub dancing to some serious rock music without a crowd or massive quantities of alcohol was very strange, and Bruce stared. He was deciding which color of kryptonite would produce such a bizarre behavior in Clark when the chorus kicked in. Turning his back to Bruce, Clark pulled off his suit in one go. It wasn’t really made for stripping and left Clark shaking his ass in his underwear. 

The almost too small black briefs Clark had kept on bounced and tried to crawl up Clark’s ass crack. They’d shrunk with too many washes, but Clark hoped Bruce would think they’d been bought for this event. Especially after Clark managed to find the courage to turn around at the start of the second verse. Bruce would either kill somebody for wearing the bat-symbol there or like the view. Either way, something had to give and Clark turned to find out what. 

Bruce made a strange noise and Clark looked away, praying it was a good noise. Hands painfully pinching his nipples stopped Clark’s dancing and made him look at Bruce’s stony face. The man had to be able to fly, or at least hover, to cover the distance between them without a noise. 

“You agree I need a good fuck to get out of my funk?” 

“You need something, or else you wouldn’t be in this funk.” Clark thought being a little defensive was a good idea. Batman was patient and his revenge would come when he wasn’t in his boxer shorts. 

“This isn’t some comment about your dick being my property?” 

“No! Why would you even think that?” Clark blinked at that, surprised once again by the way Bruce’s mind worked. 

“Never mind. Take it off and get in the bed.” 

Clark wanted to figure out Bruce’s words, but his actions demanded attention. Bruce was slipping of his boxers, adjusting the sheets with his ass in the air and Clark’s body left his brain standing guard over his favorite underwear. 

Bruce was sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking about where to position their bodies. Clark didn’t want Bruce thinking, he wanted that magnificent brain to take a few hours off, so he tackled Bruce into a roll across the large bed. Bruce grunted in surprise, but turned the roll so he was on top. Clark reached for Bruce’s hands, intent on getting the annoying man to touch him, but his left hand slipped off of Bruce’s right. 

Bruce snorted. “You made me bust the lube.” 

A look showed lube was coating Bruce’s hand, and Clark blushed a little. “It’s your party, Bruce, put the lube where you want it.” 

Clark thought that was an equitable solution, and Bruce must have agreed. Why else would he lick his lips with anticipation? Grabbing Clark’s hand, Bruce shared the lube with him. A quick turn, and Bruce’s ass was in front of Clark’s face, hard cock fighting gravity. Not really believing his luck, Clark started lubing up that entrance. Except, his entrance was presented to Bruce too, as was made clear when he got a finger in Clark. 

Clark took a moment to relax into it, before returning his attention to Bruce’s ass. When he’d lost track of what Bruce had in his ass and Clark had three of his fingers in Bruce, Bruce surprised him again. Pulling away from Clark, Bruce reached for Clark’s head. Expecting a kiss, Clark pulled Bruce to him, confused by Bruce’s startled look. The way Bruce’s tongue fought with his own put any thoughts of anything, really, right out of Clark’s brain. 

Bruce pulled away from the kiss, a pillow in each hand, stolen from behind Clark’s head. Clark just floated upward, letting Bruce put the pillows under him and position Clark the way he wanted. Clark had expected this when the idea of relaxing Bruce occurred to him. Alpha male Bruce would take what he needed, slamming into Clark with all his strength. The idea had made Clark hard, firming up his resolve to go through with this crazy idea. 

Bruce set Clark’s right leg up, knee bent toward the ceiling. Left leg was flat and to the side a little, out of the way. When Bruce slid in, Clark had to force himself not to wrap that left leg around Bruce, encouraging him to fill Clark and pound into him. A few strokes in, Clark was just getting into the rhythm when Bruce pulled completely out. 

Startled, confused Clark picked his head up to ask the meaning of this. Until he saw Bruce was lining up his ass with Clark’s cock. Clark let his head drop, let Bruce ride him into another rhythm, and stop. Clark didn’t bother looking, just laid back and let Bruce enter him again. And exit, to ride him, never letting Clark get close to coming. 

Clark laid back, felt the world fade away, until all that was left was his frustration, his need. And Bruce, controlling, demanding, and the living embodiment of annoying. This was supposed to make Bruce feel better, get rid of his frustrations, not transfer those frustrations to Clark. Except, hell, Bruce was way better at frustration and patience than Clark would ever be. 

With a snarl, Clark launched upward, letting gravity keep Bruce on his cock. Floating above the bed, Clark let his legs dangle, forcing Bruce to change plans. Bruce looked far too triumphant, as if driving Clark to this extreme was something to be proud off, as he laid himself on Clark’s torso. Once comfortable, Bruce started moving, letting Clark thrust into him in a delicious counterpoint, until Clark was howling as he reached completion just before Bruce. Clark slipped easily from post orgasmic bliss to sleep, cradling the panting body of Bruce to him. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Sunshine filled the large windows, letting Clark know it was time to get up. As he stretched, he became aware of several things. He was floating above the bed, something he hadn’t done since he learned to fly. Bruce was filling all his senses, unusual but nice, and Bruce was laying on him. That had never happened before, but Clark knew he needed to get Bruce off of him before he responded the way he wanted to. 

With the words ‘morning wood’ on his lips, Clark held Bruce and rotated in midair. Hopefully, he could lower Bruce to the bed and fly away without waking him, without explaining his erection. Lowering to the bed seemed to work, Bruce still breathed deeply and evenly in sleep, so Clark pulled his arms away. No difficulties there, so Clark lifted off. His sharp cry of pain and surprise matched Bruce’s. 

Bruce was readying himself for a fight, even as he took in his surroundings. As he focused on Clark, he remembered last night’s activities. Clark was glad the unexpected pain had gotten rid of the other problem, the erection he got just waking up with Bruce in his arms. Frowning, Bruce reached down to rub where he’d been glued to Clark by the evidence of last night’s activities. 

“It was your party, you had to do the cleanup.” Clark tried to sound like he believed that, but his blush made a liar of him. 

“Not when it’s a surprise party.” Bruce said, sitting heavily on the bed. “Or do I need Alfred to give you lessons in politeness?” 

“I’ll remember to ask him for soapy water by the bed, next time I convince him to take the night off so I can bugger you into a cooperative attitude.” Clark rolled his eyes and flew over to his clothes. 

“Did you tell him that?” 

“Lord, no! I told him I wanted to talk to you after you got back from patrol about your attitude.” With his underwear on and his uniform in his hands, Clark turned face Bruce. “He seemed grateful for the intervention.” 

“Clark, Alfred is very protective and controlling. So, you asked him visit the penthouse, not to take the night off, right?” 

“Same thing.” Clark walked to the bathroom, figuring a quick wash up would do until he got back to his place for a shower. 

“No, Clark, it’s not. You didn’t tell him you were planning on buggering me into a cooperative attitude.” 

“Not getting the importance.” Clark called as he x-rayed the bathroom for a washcloth. Apparently rich people didn’t put one on the side of the tub for easy access. “He didn’t even ask why I wanted that song ready to play.” 

Bruce moaned loudly, flopping onto the bed and pulling a pillow over his head. 

Stomach clean of dried cum, Clark took a moment to find a good place to put the cloth. It was clean and empty, but Clark couldn’t tell if it was a hamper or trash can, so he guessed it would work. He dressed and exited the bathroom, to find Bruce hadn’t moved. Clearly something was bothering him, and Clark had to know. Damn it. 

“What?” That might have come out on the extremely petulant side of things, but Clark stood by it. 

“He lives here, Clark. Alfred lives here.” Bruce pulled the pillow off his head to better emphasis his point. “You asked him to take the night off, so he told me he wouldn’t be there when I got back from patrol. Then you popped up like a horny jack in the box and I, well, wasn’t thinking about Alfred.” 

Clark must have been smirking at that, because he got a pillow thrown at him. That wouldn’t hurt anybody, but Bruce’s words usually did. 

“Alfred was here all night and heard every word of our _discussion_.” 

Clark felt the blood leave his body, to pool in his feet and make him too heavy to fly. He brain, clearly warped from hanging around Bruce too much, showed him a mental image of Alfred banging on his ceiling with a broom handle. 

“And now, you’re going to fly out of here and leave me to deal with his questions!” Bruce snarled, before pulling a different pillow over his head. 

“Alfred’s too polite to ask about your, um, personal life.” Clark sounded like he was grasping at straws to his own ears and hoped the pillow prevented Bruce from hearing it. 

“I can handle questions, but he’ll _look_ at me.” 

Clark had gotten a few of those _looks_ from his parents over the years, and they had always gotten to him. But to get one from Alfred, who could pull off the idea that he’d never even had a sexual thought, if it suited his purposes? Maybe he’d even suggest that Bruce made an honest man of Clark with a twitch of an eyebrow. Clark was pulled out of that thought by a soft, ninja like footstep outside the door. 

“Right. Got to go, Bruce, there’s an emergency somewhere.” 

“Coward!” Bruce called, as the door opened, bringing in the scent of tea. 

Clark sped away, thinking of what underwear he’d wear when he went to apologize to Bruce for this. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
